User blog:FireDrag1091/Unshattered Resolve III
Water Maintenance Tunnel-4A Heading in the Direction of City North Five hours following the activation of the Cage… The cold metal and concrete pipe was almost like a perfect cylinder. Water brushed gently across the curved sides and pooled nearly perfectly at the bottom. The steps upset the water, and sent it splashing against the sides as the unsettling sound echoed against the cold walls. Avgust had hardly ever walked through terrains like this, in fact he could count the number of times he had on a single hand. He understood a lot of the cautions of these situations, it was never advantageous to be in a self-contained tube with only two directions. He even preferred a bridge over a several hundred metre fall. Avgust kept his Thunderlord raised and aimed, taking several steps before checking his rear and his front consistently. He did not have his helmet anymore, and so attempting to read movements without his Heads-Up-Display and its accompanying motion tracker and so he had to rely quite a bit on the traditional way. Svarog suddenly clicked, as Avgust came to an immediate halt. “Odd…” The Ghost paused, “all communications are cut. Forces of the City, Red Legion… everything.” “Could just be how far down we are…” Avgust said, before he continued to walk forward. “No, it is like we are in a bubble.” Svarog explained, “The signal did not just fade or become weaker, it just stopped. Completely.” There sounded like there were steps behind him. Avgust stopped and turned his machinegun toward the sounds behind him. It was just as possible that it was an echo of his own steps, but it seemed to him to be too delayed. There had to be something behind him. The air held still, as Avgust stepped back slowly as his footsteps echoed through the muffled splashing of the water. He timed it; it was not even a second before the sound came back to him. He waited an additional second… there were four footsteps that followed in contrast to his three. He played an anxious game, trying to determine whether each echo was quieter or louder. Then he heard the gnashing of teeth. Avgust turned immediately and started to an all-out sprint, his servo joints whining in the sudden frantic demand that was weighing against it. He heard the sudden growl and snarl of the creatures behind him, as he heard it growing closer and closer. He could not turn around and shoot, he knew if he did it would be a waste before he was mauled to death and burst his ears in the process. The Titan battled with the calculations between the immediate and the timed. He had never faced these creatures before, but he remembered how they slashed his allies to ribbons with claws and teeth. To die a final death like that seemed to him more humiliating than being struck dead by a slug rifle or broken into pieces by explosives. “Solution?” Avgust choked as he continued to run. “No idea!” Svarog replied. The Titan continued to sprint, as he swore, he felt the first breaths against his back. Avgust stared ahead, recognising immediately that there was some scaffolding that appeared to have been supporting the accessway and the entire pipeline. Avgust panted but pushed himself to sprint faster. He swung his Thunderlord over his shoulder, locking it into place on the magnetic locks. His heels slid as he reached the scaffolding, stubbornly halting in a slide as the Titan swung around to face the horde of Warbeasts that had chased him. He threw up his fists, tightening his right hand into a rigid ball as the metal plating that still wrapped around his fingers. The first creature jumped upward from the gathering crowd of twelve or so creatures. Avgust launched his fist, striking the muscular creature as the bone underneath its helmet sprained and the muscle bruised. The Warbeast however did not relent, still slashing with its claws through the midsection of Avgust’s armour. Avgust cried in pain as his skin pulled into tatters, and blood painted the floor and the wall. He cried in pain, as he felt tempted to keel over and allow his opponent another opportunity to strike. Instead, he contained himself as he struck with another fist that doubled the injury as instead: its jaw unhinged, and it’s left eye popped out of its skull. The creature then slumped to the ground momentarily, as Avgust landed a foot into its exposed face as it the servo joints left an explosive impact that sent the crippled creature tumble back into the horde. Avgust snatched a metal bar from the scaffolding that weighed in his hand, as the support beam tore wooden planks and sent water spurting out of the exposed metal pipe like an exposed wound. The second and third beasts rounded, whimpering from the sudden spray of ice-cold as they launched at the Titan. Avgust swung the makeshift weapon, striking one across its armoured head as it dented and twisted before he reeled back the weapon and thrust it like a spear into the head of the third. The sickening breaking of bone as muscle and skin peeled out away, the black oil and crimson blood gushing out like a second fountain as the Titan backed away from the horde that had been reduced three members. Water began to chip away at the damaged concrete, as the gushing water intensified as the metal continued to bend out of place. Then there was a horrible sound, the seeming cracking sound of dozens of low-yield explosions that rocked across the wall as the pipes cracked and concrete split. Avgust watched as ice-cold water exploded from the breach he exposed and further down the line, as streams struck the horde as the Warbeasts screeched in shock as they slouched to avoid the offending stream that gushed from the broken pipeline. The Titan hesitated for only a moment, before he immediately turned heel and started in a sprint once more. Avgust knew what was bound to happen once the pressure finally burst: the entire accessway he was in would be flooded in a nigh tidal wave. Concrete pinged off his armour as he heard the confused growls and roars of the Warbeasts that were separated from their prey by the water. An explosive burst of water broke through the pipeline, as it crashed against Avgust. The force of the water through him off balance for but a moment, as the cold liquid sent immediate shock through his nerves as he gasped desperately for renewed breath. Avgust however pressed forward, making out through the spray of the growing pool reaching now at his knees: a solo ladder that led upwards. He did not know if this was the actual end, but rather a manhole that allowed maintenance workers easy access into the service tunnel. There was a louder ‘growl’ that grew to Avgust’s left, as the Titan heard a momentary pause before a deafening roar. Avgust slammed into the concrete wall to his right, his armoured body beginning to drown under the indescribable amounts of water that now would have reached his waist. He wanted to yell out in pain, but only inhaled bitter tasting water. He could not give into his pain, not now… sluggishly, he pulled himself above the water as the now determined current attempted to pull him further away from the ladder he had spotted. Avgust waded through the chest-high water, his steel-toed boots digging into the metal and concrete under his feet as he reached out metal bars now only a metre away from his grasp. The bitter water burned as it washed into his wounds, causing the Titan to grind his teeth. Pain yelled in his shoulder and upper back, undoubtedly from his collision with the wall. Avgust’s fingers brushed against the ladder, before he secured an undoubtable grasp. He used this hold to pull himself closer to the ladder, securing his second arm as he started to pull himself up the ladder. Moment by moment, second by second… he managed to wrestle himself from the water that would have otherwise certainly drowned him. Avgust spit out some water that still dripped into his mouth, as he ignored the pain before pulling himself up further and further There were only forty bars that he had to wrestle his armoured body up, before he reached the grating that represented his escape. Avgust reached up, weaving his fingers through the holes of the grating before he shoved it off from its place. He took in a deep breath as he pulled himself slowly outside of the storm drain into the smoke-filled air once more. Avgust turned his gaze around quickly, seeing that he was secured within another facility much like the one he had been in within the water treatment facility. The Ghost materialised, as immediately it scanned over the claw marks that tore through his armour and bodyglove. Standing upright, the Titan rolled his shoulder as he felt Svarog’s Light ease the wound and repair his pain. Avgust reached over his shoulder to pull the machinegun free of the magnetic locks, as he rested the weapon in his hands once more. Avgust asked quietly, “City North?” “I do believe so…” Svarog paused, “but… what is this?” “What?” Avgust cautiously asked, examining the room further. He had grown paranoid, it seemed as he recognised that the room was completely empty. Avgust remained silent, as he noted that the Ghost had been taking his time. “That bubble?” Svarog responded, taking time it seems to make calculations: “It is gone.” “Svarog--” “Wait a moment.” Svarog interrupted, “I am translating this for you.” “Lieutenant Avgust?” '' Avgust paused. It was the voice of that Guardian. The Guardian he had promised hours ago to regroup with and protect: his objective. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over the Titan, as he managed somehow to ease his shoulders as he stood still. He nodded to Svarog to continue, understanding completely now what that ‘bubble’ could have potentially been. ''“This is Guardian Horvin. I’m sending a priority communication to Lieutenant Avgust. Respond immediately if you received.” “Can you raise safe communication?” Avgust asked. “This message is sent on a multi-leveled, one-way messaging system.” Svarog paused, “Even if I wanted to, it would be impossible.” Avgust paused, he wanted to inquire how that was possible and even if it was: why then would Horvin use this method if he were looking for an answer? The Titan looked to the Ghost, as Svarog offered what was easily interpreted as a shrug. Svarog looked as if he was going to respond, before he paused. Avgust simply stared at Svarog, as the Ghost expanded into a blue orb of light as he began to scan again. “Wait… one moment.” Svarog repeated himself, “This Guardian, he is clever. The message is overlaid with random binary. He is not asking us to respond.” “Then what is he asking us to do?” “He is asking us to follow the coordinates.” Avgust paused as he quietly pieced together what Svarog had just said, as he analysed the room he stood in closer detail. There was a dust that lightly lined the floor and the cracked concrete that had been disturbed: footprints that separated away from where he stood. No, it was evident that someone was here before. Avgust quietly mapped it all: why the water treatment plant was marked as a hazard when it was not, why the radio ‘bubble’ existed and prevented that scrambled every signal… and now this communication disguised as coordinate data? This was the path that this ‘Horvin’ had followed. And not too long ago. “We are close.” Avgust muttered. “I…” Svarog paused momentarily, “yes. We are not far away; they are positioned at just 500 metres away from where we are now. How did you…?” “Keep focused.” Svarog dematerialised in a flash of blue light as the Titan slowly made his way to the door of the facility. Reaching the door and sliding the dust intentionally as he walked, Avgust reached with his right hand to push open the door that lead back into the outside world. The cold air beat against his face, a near unfamiliar feeling considering the blistering hot or uneasy warm he had felt nearly the entire day. He gazed around as reflexively he brought his right arm back to bear as he lifted his weapon up to a firing position. The buildings here were sparse it seemed, but these buildings seemed to slouch in some sort of despair or depression. Fire sputtered from the broken windows, coughing a dark smoke that blended illy with the night sky. Dozens of low-lying buildings dotted the landscape, as Avgust very quickly identified these as the hangars that the City utilised for their air vehicles. At his feet was indeed gravel and soot and occasional green blades of grass or muddy weeds that were stomped down by either the Guardians or the Cabal. The Titan scanned his horizon, as he quickly determined it was abandoned and he was most certainly alone. Avgust remembered a lot of his time in City North: the capital of transportation of the City. Guardian Fireteams would organise here to depart on their way to the reaches of the City’s influence. Hawks were prepared, stocked and fueled for long expeditions and after a long series of final checks before takeoff. He had stood on these platforms many a time as a new Guardian in his service as a Ranger of the Pilgrim Guard, again as an Elite of the Vanguard and later as a Lieutenant who led Guardians much like himself into the stars. Those times might as well have been considered gone. “That flight control tower.” Svarog finally said, “The coordinates lead there.” Avgust recognised the gesture as he locked his eyes on the tall lopsided tower, that had very clearly sustained structural damage along its spire as a result of the war that had been brought against it. The communication array bellowed, and many parts of the spindly metal grid had already crashed to the ground below along the ocean of shattered glass that it appeared to be drowning in. Immediately and hastily, Avgust jogged over to the structure as he checked, and double checked his flanks. The gravel and soot transformed quickly into cracked pavement and glass: clearly unfit for the service it had been designed for. His eyes finally broke away from the shape of the tower before he scanned his surroundings further. Avgust very quickly slowed his pace, as he looked at the collection of random shapes that drowned in the sea of broken things. There were several bodies, again divided between the Cabal and the Guardians and Forces of the City… but among them there were the corpses of civilians. Male and female. Human, Exo and Awoken. Of all ages from either young or old. They all laid dead, mauled bodies. Anger pinged throughout Avgust as he paused for a moment from his jog. He looked at the people he was sworn to protect, and yet had not been able to. They were dead far before he would have been able to involve himself. He breathed in, attempting to relax his now tense and rigid muscles before he continued in a slow walk. Avgust promised within himself that he would avenge those who were murdered by the Red Legion not just to the Guardians earlier, but now doubled to those he protected. Within mere moments, Avgust finished his walk across the glass sea as he approached the door that granted access to the damaged flight-control tower. He analysed the door, recognising that it was eerily pressed in and uncharacteristically dented with its accompanying bullet-proof window shattered. The Titan stepped through, as he stepped in cautiously into the hallway as he recognised another body: a Warlock. Avgust quickly looked over the body, as he quickly recognised that she did not die in distress. No, she died in some form of peace: an odd departure from the deaths that he had witnessed. Avgust lifted his Thunderlord back into a firing position as he followed the oddly designed path. More shattered glass, broken computers and processing units that sparked occasionally in sync with the flashing emergency lights that ran on the emergency generators. Avgust snuck through the facility, rolling his feet with each step as he muffled his own steps. The Titan followed the hallway he had walked so many times before, as eventually he came to the end of this strange trail. A single door ended the path. It was sealed and sustained only minor damage. Avgust paused as Svarog materialised over his shoulder, the Ghost anxiously looking at the door with his single blue eye. Avgust turned his head to Svarog, as the Ghost nodded his ‘head.’ The Titan turned heel, immediately facing the other way as he paced backwards carefully toward the door. Avgust kept the Thunderlord raised, as he reached his arm and knocked on the door with his knuckles a total of three times. His heart pounded as he heard a shuffle from behind him. Three seconds passed before Avgust heard the door slide open. Followed by the click of a handcannon, that he felt pressed against the back of his head. ---- The Praetorian Court Along the Coasts of the Endless Ocean Ganymede, Satellite of Jupiter The rain was silver. Cracks formed across the sky that seemed to shatter across sharp coasts that cut the clouds that dared to form in the low atmosphere. These dark gray clouds were torn to tatters, being split and flayed higher and lower than their original course dictated. The clouds bled with silver blood, striking the surface as a creature that cried. The white and green surface seemed to wash with that ‘blood,’ as lightning clapped in the distance as some form of violent applause. It seemed to the Primus as if this planetoid--this place--required this violence. Perhaps he thought too much on this issue, and that these natural phenomena rendered a different purpose. But the floor he stood on however was painted over with red and black: free of the natural form that decorated the rest of the landscape. The broken landscape. He breathed in the metal-scented air, that tinged with the strange buzz of oxidation. The Primus wanted to shake his head at the damaged sight but relented. Instead, he turned his head the way of that which his people built… that which they corrected. His brow lowered and focused on these ‘things’ that were with him. There were four figures, that struggled against the muscle mass that held them into place in the u-shaped ‘court.’ A variety of shapes, each different from the other. Two wore cloaks, the other wore robes and one was in suitable armour. But what did not change was the burn marks across their colours: the tears in the fabric they wore and the breaks in the metal that decorated their bodies. What did not change was their weakness, nor their injuries. The Primus was told long ago that these ‘Guardians’ were the honour of the City that they so claimed to defend. But seeing them broken and defeated, without a semblance of any form of suitable fight: no. They were not proud warriors or defenders. They were as greedy as the Eliksni themselves, who clamoured and stole from those that were greater than they. The Primus felt as the silver rain hit uselessly against his heavy Centurion armour, brushing the brussels that made up the decorations of his ornate armour. The Primus reminisced for but a moment about this armour which he wore. The forged and refined detail of his armour remarked for his accomplishments enough, the gold and red tones over his grey armour chassis: the honour he exhibited, and the lives he had claimed. He pursed his lips, as he stared out at the broken skyline. He stared at the scarred surface, at to the parts where the planet’s surface had been, and up to the sky where the surface had broken free. Stretches of lands that spanned from 50 to over 100 kilometres sat trapped in the gravity well of the planet. They looked more like dark and imposing clouds in the distance, but to know it was silver and jagged rock and metal? The Primus wondered if this is what the ruins of a battle of the gods looked like. And whether this moment defined the passing of a failed deity, or a failed people. “I wonder why your Centurions would seek to send you so far beyond your own Walls.” The Primus mused aloud, “And why just four?” The Guardians did not answer, though they did however freeze. The Primus understood perhaps why: perhaps they did not expect a Urant like himself to speak their language, or perhaps they did not expect him to know about their City. The Primus snorted, “They usually send your teams in six, or three. And usually they keep your quaternios within the rings of rock. So why?” The Primus turned his gaze away from the broken sky, before he paced closely toward the Guardians being held down against their will. He turned his attention toward the armoured figure, having just assumed it was the leader of the quarternio: the heavier the armour, the more important the individual. Such was the nature of the Urant, and it had yet to be proven wrong in the Primus’ experience. “And why so far down within a Vex network?” “You ought to stay your forked tongue…” a cloaked thing growled, as the Primus slowly turned his gaze toward the cloaked thing. “Ah, so you do speak.” The Primus tisked, as he approached the smaller frame than that who wore the armour. It appeared to be feminine in shape, as these creatures had unique morphology. The aged Urant thought it curious, that they should feel so inclined to dare speak out of line. It showed that they lacked discipline. And lack of discipline broke warriors. It made them bodies. The Primus clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a Urant signal that implied to inflict pain. The Centurion that held the cloaked beast under his hands obliged and turned the arms of the Guardian to the point where they snapped liked reeds and bled. The Guardian cried in pain, as the Primus approached it. “But allow me to serve a reminder of where you kneel.” The Primus responded sinisterly. He returned his attention back to the armoured Guardian, before he asked again: “Why are you here?” The Guardian struggled, before it halted. It turned its small head toward the Primus, as it attempted one last, but fruitless time to break free. Eventually, the armoured creature offered a brief statement: “Patrol…” “Patrol?” The Primus sighed, “I find that hard to believe. No, you have received assignment from your Centurions.” The large Urant wandered toward the armoured creature and stopped only a pace from it as he mused silently to himself. Had the creature completely forgotten what fate had befallen its companion? Whether it had been bravery or idiocy, it did not particularly concern the Primus. He waited with the bit of patience that he could, before he sighed: “Tell me what you seek.” “To understand.” The Guardian replied vaguely, as it lowered it’s head in some form of symbolic gesture of embarrassment. The Primus scoffed as he turned his head toward the Legionary that held this Guardian in its hands. The Urant clicked his tongue again, but instead for the sound of ‘release.’ The Legionary immediately obeyed, allowing the Guardian out of its hands as it stepped back and lifted its slug rifle to the firing position. He stared at the creature longer, as he eventually shook his head. “You seek to ‘understand...” The Primus growled, “that is no answer. You are mocking me…” “Why would I?” The Guardian responded in self-defence. The Primus paused, as he turned his gaze back to the other three Guardians that were being held against their will: “I figured that was obvious. Even the simplest of organisms understand to bite back when cornered.” “Isn’t that what we all do?” “Your questions are pointless.” The Primus stated bluntly, “I will not suffer my time be run by incompetence.” The Guardian lowered itself, keeping its hands and knees on the ground as it kept it’s gaze on the floor of the constructed court below it. It seemingly froze under the scrutinising glare from the Primus. The aged Urant stepped only on foot closer to the released creature, as he continued: “And unfortunately, there are consequences for those who decide to mock my time.” The Primus clicked his tongue again, two simple short notes that even the young of Urant would understand: ‘execute.’ Immediately, the armoured frames of the multiple Legionaries that held the other three Guardians against their wills were lifted and immediately dragged toward the edge of the court that overlooked a dangerous and sharp cliff that proved a several hundred metre plummet into the silver oceans that led through jagged coasts. The sole survivor of the Guardians turned its head in horror, as one by one its comrades were dragged to the end. There were desperate cries of the horrified creatures that were certain to meet their ends, as the Primus merely watched on. He then turned his head down toward the sole claimed survivor, as he sensed the despair and anger that radiated off his armoured frame. Eventually, the cries of the Guardians and the shouts of joy among the Urant faded into utter and absolute silence with the occasional sounds of the rain that pinged across his armour. The silence persisted for a moment. That utter, deafening silence that reminded the Primus of the cool that followed the end of a victorious battle. He eventually breathed aloud: “And this, is the fate that awaits the rest of your pathetic race. ‘Warriors.’ ‘Guardians.’ Sifting through the ashes of your worlds that ought to have remained abandoned… you struck with ferocity for a time against our kind, promoting your feign sense of bravery and ability born from powers that never belonged to you. “Your kind was never anything more than parasites, festering and feasting on the corpse of a God you insist you defend. Your pathetic stand against us has proven the limits of even the powers you claimed in your palms, now rightfully stripped from your incapable possession. It was better you were left writhing in the Dark, left clueless to the fate that has been assigned you by fallen leaders and broken formations. “Guardian…” The Primus chuckled as he loomed over the shape of the Guardian who trembled in the looming shadow of the Urant, “now fate has left you to me.” The Primus turned his head to the sentry of the Cabal Legionaries who posted themselves back into place after their dealing in the execution of the three Guardians. The old Urant grunted, as he directed them to take position around the still captive Guardian, who lay paralyzed on its knees as he spoke to his troops in Urant: “Secure this creature and take it to the Inner Sanctum. It shall have ‘conversation’ with our Psions.” The Legionaries huffed in an affirmative response, as the four creatures surrounded the Guardian as its one handler stepped forward and seized the creature by its arm before lifting it up helplessly to its feet. It did not even resist, as it was directed towards the expanding Fleetbase that the Urant set busily to construct and complete. The Primus watched as the Guardian was dragged away as the silver rain continued to patter against his armour, the sound tapping gently on his helmet. The Primus turned his vision back to the floating lands that stretched far away and far above the surface of the broken moon. At this point, the Primus was all too convinced that indeed the planet was torn into pieces as a result of a battle of the desperation of a deity and its people. That desperation was the deserved fall and failure that resulted in an honourless and decrepit society of degenerates, that greedily reached out to touch worlds that they had lost the possession of. In this manner, Humanity was not too far removed from the Eliksni… but at least the Eliksni were clever and learned in their art. Humanity however, relied on misunderstood and improperly used power. Their hubris was insulting to the spans of the universe itself. And now on the wounded planet they sought to mend and restore, they were forced once again to bitterly swallow the pain of humiliation and of desperation that they experienced already once before. He would personally see to that. Category:Blog posts